


Ashes to Flames

by The_White_Rabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Some fluff if you squint, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: When light of your world becomes faded, your friends search for a way to bring it back, and their desperation leads to a startling discovery.





	Ashes to Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a tumblr challenge with the prompt, "It's never too late to be what you want to be... unless you want to be younger, then you're screwed."

You couldn’t remember ever being this tired.   

 

It was more than just weariness that had settled into your bones. The days bled into each other, the minutes stretching together  in one long string of empty moments.  It felt like you existed within shades of grey, everything around you saturated with cooler hues.  The more time that passed, the bluer everything became.  The world.   _ You _ .  Even the sun fell flat, the warmth on your face overshadowed by the ever-fading colors, and every time it set, you felt another piece of yourself disappear with it.  

 

You had no idea what had happened.   One moment you were awash in a sea of yellows, from the flickering candlelight to the faded parchment of ancient texts.  You were doing a favor for an old friend of your father’s, burying yourself in lore that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, if  _ ever _ .  Your eyes closed for the briefest moment, your fingers trying to rub the dull ache behind them away as you tried to remember what daylight even was. 

 

A sudden chilliness descended, something that was far more frequent than you liked, and you tried not to think of how many spirits likely roamed the old monastery halls.  This cold snap hit deep, however, and a shudder tore through you, causing your eyes to immediately open.  You blinked once, then again, stare widening as everything around you suddenly took on the tones of a faded, discolored photograph.  

 

That had been years ago, and it had never been the same after that.  

 

It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.  The entire hunter community was up in arms about the impending apocalypse, the very thing you were hip deep in research over.  Lucifer was loose from the cage.  Everyone you knew was too caught up in the chaos, including yourself, to focus on anything else.  

 

When that storm had settled, you were finally introduced to the infamous Winchesters, and once your existence collided with theirs, you were never able to extricate yourself from them.  You considered enlisting their help, but there never seemed to be much time to focus on anything other than whatever burgeoning mess they happened to step into.  Angel wars. Leviathan. Your own troubles seemed so miniscule in comparison, and it was almost two and a half years before you even mentioned anything to them.  

 

By then, however, it was too late.  

 

They gave it a valiant effort.  They devoted any and all spare time between cases to yours.  Your desire to know, however, had dwindled, and many other inclinations followed.  

 

Your driving curiosity was the first to go, the very thing that had led you into the world of monsters and hunting.  The next was your passion, which had always given you the extra reserves needed to see a case through and move on to the next, no matter how tired or hopeless it seemed.  Without that spark, your compassion closely followed, allowing the emptiness you felt when you looked around you to entrench itself, and slowly the world you saw became an accurate reflection of what lay inside of you. 

 

Your friends had been with you every step of that transformation, though they hadn’t known what to do about it.  Sam tried to get you to talk, but you often felt there was nothing to say.  This wasn’t some mood you were in.  It wasn’t stress, lingering memories, or bad experiences grating away at you.  It just  _ was _ .  

 

Dean was more of a doer.  He tried to take you out more, get you drunk, and took you places with good food and even better prospects for one night stands.  You’d gone along with it for a while, though you’d never taken anyone home.  You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d enjoyed someone else’s touch, let alone your own, pleasure being another of the many things that had become lost, like all the warmth and vibrancy in life had burned out, leaving you surrounded by a sea of ashes.  

 

Recently, however, you’d stopped entertaining those attempts, finding you couldn’t muster enough will to try anymore, even for him. You knew they were worried, but there just wasn’t enough of anything left within you to do anything about it.  You heard them sometimes, late at night, when they thought you were asleep.

 

_ “We can’t just sit here and continue to do nothing.” _

 

_ “Dean… I’m not sure what we can do.  Talking doesn’t help. Getting her out, making her hunt, doing things here, nothing seems to work.” _

 

_ “There’s gotta be something wrong with her,” Dean persisted. _

 

_ “I have checked.  Many,  _ **_many_ ** _ times.”  Cas sounded weary of the topic, though he was just as concerned as the brothers.  “If there is, I can find no natural cause for it.” _

 

There was nothing natural about this, but between the four of you, you had thoroughly covered the usual supernatural causes.  If it was witchcraft, it was so ancient and obscure you were certain to never find it.  You had all gone back to the monastery and ruled out the possibility of a curse.  All the spirits on the grounds were benevolent and former occupants.  Even Crowley hadn’t ever seen or heard of anything like it (though you had declined his offer of more  _ thorough _ testing).  

 

You’d given up looking for a “cure.”  You were fairly certain nothing short of a miracle could reverse what had been done, and your faith, though one of the last things to go, was just as lost to you as everything else.  You didn’t deny them their hope, however.  You were empty, not heartless.  

 

It didn’t come as a surprise when they, too, eventually accepted that things _just_ _were_.  

 

What did surprise you, however, was that they still never gave up, though their search for a reason deviated from its original course.  At least you assumed it had by the unexpected intervention they put together for you one night.  

 

“So am I being voted off the island?” You asked, looking at the row of concerned faces sitting across the table from you.  There was nothing wrong with your wit, and every now and then your sense of humor surfaced.  The words, however, sounded vacant, as if human sentiment no longer stirred inside of you. 

 

“I - no,” Sam fumbled with his words, caught off guard by your shrewd stare.  That’s when you knew they were definitely asking you to leave.  You weren’t sure what was more disturbing (mostly because nothing  **_actually_ ** disturbed you anymore): the fact that this was happening or that all they had to do was ask and you would have gone and packed your bags without a second thought.  

 

“We’re worried.  We can tell you’re not happy, that you haven’t been in a long time,” he continued.

 

He was right.  Joy was as foreign to you as the oranges and coppers that had slowly vanished from your sight, leaving you with the colder, more bitter hues.  

 

“We were wondering if you’ve ever been happy here,” Dean broke in.  “I know this life isn’t the easiest.  There’s not a lot of time for things most people enjoy… but you used to enjoy it.  This.”  He held his hands up, gesturing around the bunker.  

 

You had, once, to whatever capacity you’d been capable.  You weren’t sure when exactly you’d stopped feeling the comfort of their company and walls, but that, too, had fizzled out.  

 

“If this isn’t what you want, y/n, you can tell us,” Sam continued.  “This is as much your home as it is ours, and we want you here, but --”

 

“Only if I’m happy,” you guessed.  You couldn’t blame them.  Who wanted a husk of a person hanging around, siphoning off their energy in an attempt to stay alive?

 

“Only if it  _ makes  _ you happy,” he corrected.  “You don’t have to be anything for us, including pretending to want something you might not anymore.”

 

Your eyes narrowed on him, unable to follow his line of thinking.  Want was as foreign as it was familiar.  You could remember what it was like to have a desire for things.  You just weren’t sure what they expected you _to_ want.   

 

“This doesn’t have to be it,” Dean continued.  “You don’t have to stay in this life, kiddo.   **It’s never too late to be what you want to be... unless you want to be younger, then you’re screwed.”**

 

His smiled at you, trying to lighten the situation.  For their sake, you tried to let him, mimicking the gesture as best you could.  Yet, it came out as hollow as it felt, his mirth flickering out just as quickly as it had appeared.  

 

“It’s not hunting,” you told them.  “It’s not this place.  It’s not you.” 

 

You could go on for hours listing off all the things it  _ wasn’t _ .  How to make them understand what it was, however, was beyond you.  You barely did yourself, other than ever since that day, you had been unexplainably withering away inside at a slow, anguished pace.  You were no different than a flower plucked from the field.  No matter how many times your water was changed, no matter how much nourishment was added, you were not meant to survive as incomplete as you now were.  

 

“It’s not that I don’t see the way I used to,” you continued, a sudden clarity forming along the outskirts of your consciousness.  “That’s a symptom, not a cause.  Something was taken from me.”

 

The answer was right there, looming over you.  Perhaps it had always been, but right then, it was so tangible you could feel it, dancing along the fringe of your understanding.  

 

“What was taken?”  Cas asked.

 

“Everything,” you breathed, and the moment the word was out that knowledge vanished, leaving you just as lost and answerless as before.  

 

The hushed conversations only grew more frequent after that.  

 

_ “Tell me that wasn’t creepy…” _

 

_ “Dean…”  Sam sounded like he’d rather be having any conversation at the moment other than this one.   _

 

_ “Did you see the look on her face when she said that?”   _

 

_ “It was intuitive, visceral, a leap that defies logic and understanding,” Cas said so casually you would have thought he was explaining how clouds formed.   _

 

_ “You know what it was?”   _

 

_ “I believe the universe was speaking through her,” the angel explained. _

 

_ “Great.  Now the only explanation we have is that the cosmos is trying its hand at ventriloquism with our friend.” _

 

_ … _

 

_ “There’s nothing on universal threads or cosmic connections that would explain any of this,” Sam sighed.   _

 

_ A thundering rumble invaded through the room, as if several books had been dropped all at once.   _

 

_ “Maybe not in  _ **_your_ ** _ library.” _

 

_ … _

 

_ “Soulmates?  Seriously?”  Dean’s incredulousness echoed well beyond the walls of the library.   _

 

_ “This isn’t the first time we’ve heard about them,” Sam reminded. _

 

_ “Sharing a Heaven with someone you bond with is one thing, but  _ **_this_ ** _?  This is beyond that.  This is - I don’t even know what this is.” _

 

_ “It’s a thread of cosmic energy that is woven well before the existence of individuals that becomes activated once they both come into being,” Cas’ rough voice filled the silence.   _

 

_ “Tell me it doesn’t sound like a whole world of crazy just fell out of his mouth,” Dean demanded. _

 

_ “Honestly?  It sounds like more than we’ve had in months now,” Sam shrugged.   _

 

_ … _

 

_ “No.  No freaking way!” _

 

_ “Dean --” _

 

_ “Don’t  _ **_Dean_ ** _ me, Sammy!”  He roared. “There is no way in Heaven  _ **_or_ ** _ Hell we are bringing that douche back.” _

 

_ “That douche just happened to save our lives,” Sam reminded patiently.  “And gave us the means to put Lucifer back in his cage.” _

 

_ “And trapped us in an alternate reality, and toyed with us on several other occasions, and --” _

 

_ “Is my brother  _ **_and_ ** _ an archangel, which is one of the only beings in existence with the power to be able to help,” Cas broke in.  “Unless you’d like to take our chances with one of the others?  I’m sure Raphael will be very pleased to see me after what happened, and I bet Michael would love to get his hands on either of you after locking him away with Lucifer.  Unless you’d like to see if letting the devil out,  _ **_again_ ** _ , works any better this time around?” _

 

_ The silence that ensued was deafening. _

 

_ “I take that as unanimous agreement that we should stick with the douche.” _

 

You had no idea who they were talking about.  You didn’t even ask a single question when they finally let you in on their plan.  Trying to resurrect an archangel seemed a little over the top (not to mention  _ dangerous _ ) but you didn’t have it in you to argue. 

 

You just wanted it to be over.  If there was something that accompanied the void, it might’ve been different.  A gnawing.  An ache.  But there was  _ nothing,  _ which was exactly what you felt  _ you  _ had become.  

 

At this point, they could have told you they were sacrificing you to the God of Obscure References and you would have gone along just as willingly.  

 

As it was, you only needed to take a trip with them a few states away.

 

...

 

_ Muncie _ ,  _ Indiana _ .  Something ominous settled over you regarding the location.  It was the first response you’d had in awhile, and the world around you rippled, an echo of  _ something  _ seeping into listless tones.  The effect was short-lived, however, and it wasn’t long before everything settled back into that stark, wearisome, monochromatic spectrum. 

 

You got tired of watching the landscape, unable to stand plot after plot of golden corn fields now a ghostly shade of white.  For some reason, that color in particular bothered you, and that was all that seemed to lay between you and your destination.  

 

“What’s the point of this?” You asked, breaking the pensive silence in the vehicle.  You felt every head in the car swivel in your direction.  

 

“An archangel is the most powerful being in existence, aside from my father,” Cas explained.  “If anyone can help you, it will be him.”

 

_ Him _ .  

 

“Gabriel,” you stated, an odd dissonance tugging at the emptiness as the name leapt off your tongue.  Through process of elimination, you had drawn your own conclusion as to which one you would be trying to bring back.  

 

The angel glanced over at you, surprised.  “Yes.  Gabriel.  The others were deemed too unstable.”

 

Dean snorted.  “That entire branch of your family has some issues around stability and sanity in general.”

 

“And douchiness?”  You guessed. 

 

His eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror.  “You heard us.”

 

“I don’t sleep much,” you reminded.  

 

He exchanged a look with Sam who then turned to face you.  “Just how much did you hear?”

 

You briefly met his gaze before turning back out the window.  “Enough to know you’re still grasping at straws.”

 

Enough to recognize that if this didn’t pan out, then nothing ever would.  

 

“How is this even supposed to work?”  You continued, folding your arms over your chest.  

 

“It’s… complicated,” Sam replied, turning back around.  He probably didn’t mean to be dismissive.  Your arely asked questions anymore and if you did, there was never any follow up to their answers.  Your eyes flicked up at him, but he had already turned back around.  

 

Dean caught the way you were staring.  “In a nutshell we’re going to go in there, shake up some magical laws, and hopefully rekindle his ashes into a flame that will guide him back to this plane.  Presuming there’s anything even left of him there.”  

 

Right.  Not far fetched at all.  

 

You rested your head against the cool glass, eyes focusing on nothing in particular as you murmured, “Good luck with that.”

 

…

 

They wouldn’t let you inside, at least not until after they worked whatever forbidden magic they needed.  You assumed it was forbidden, anyway, considering  _ breaking magical laws  _ was part of the abridged version.  It was just fine with you.  You didn’t like this place.  There was a power here, one that did not come from run of the mill supernatural sources.  It buzzed along the grounds, stretching up through the frame of the car until it was skittering along your skin.  It energized you in a way that left you unsettled, the sudden sensation a sharp contrast to the lifelessness that had plagued you.

 

You folded your arms over your chest, drawing your legs up onto the seat.  You closed your eyes, hoping if you ignored it, eventually it would fade into the background.  It didn't.  If anything, it only grew the longer you were there.  

 

They couldn’t tell you how long it would take.  Waiting wasn’t normally an issue these days, but with that undercurrent of _something_ running through the area, you found it difficult to do as you were asked.  A part of you whispered in response, someplace deep and distant, reminding you that, at one point, you would have balked at their request to stay outside.  Just a few years ago, they still would have been following _you_ into that building, regardless of what they said.  

 

_ This isn’t who you are  _ it reminded.

 

You’d always known there was a difference between who you were and what you’d become.  The question had always been, what were you supposed to do about it?   

 

_ Wake up,  _ it commanded.   _ It’s time to  _ **_wake up_ ** **.**

 

Your eyes snapped open, surprised to find the sun had disappeared, and you knew before you stepped out of the vehicle that something was off.  The world was eerily still, silent, devoid of the usual chorus of nighttime insects or the smallest stir of air.  The power from before had retreated, pulling back behind the walls of the hotel.  The only sign of life came from within, a solitary light through a window on the far end, and the once foreboding structure became an eerie beacon that beckoned you in from the darkness.  

 

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt drawn to anything, and you felt yourself moving unaware through the darkness, the only thought on your mind finding that light.  You felt your way through pitch-black halls, your cell phone and flashlight inexplicably dead.  You had no idea where you were going, and yet you navigated your way through the dilapidated halls all the same, coming to stop at a set of double doors that had a small strip of brightness spilling out from beneath them.  

 

The energy you’d felt before resurfaced, returning ten-fold.  This time it didn’t just tingle over the surface, but you could feel it seeping into you, slipping inside your veins, urging your system to shake off the wintery sleep to which it had succumb.  

 

You didn’t know what to make of it.  You didn’t know what to make of anything as you pushed your way inside.  Your friends stood on the fringes of a circle, a mass of complicated symbols adorning the entire area within it.  Glass lay strewn across the floor, every window blown out across the entire area.  The light you had seen came from a ring of flames that was half the size of the original circle, in the center of which stood a man you’d never seen before.  

 

He stood next to a metal basin filled with a mixture of burning embers and fire. Every flame in the room jumped higher as he turned, and the whole world shifted as your gazes locked.  

 

“Hey, sweetheart, welcome to the party,” he gestured around him, flashing you a devastating smile.  “I take it you are the damsel in distress I was brought back to save?”

 

He took a step toward you and your breath froze.  His eyes flared to life in a bright burst of color you hadn’t seen in years. It reminded you of Autumn before it was touched by the first frost, the hues warm and bright with the golden echoes of summer.  

 

You had never seen anything as breathtaking, or as beautiful, as his eyes were in that very moment, the only spark of vibrance in a world you’d given up as withered and dead.  

 

“You all right?”  He continued to move toward you, his brow arching slightly.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

Each step he took sparked more embers within the ashes, the radiance in his eyes spreading, illuminating his face, slowly seeping up through his hair, down the front of him until he almost looked surreal, saturated with the sunny tones that had been absent all these years.  

 

“I know I can be somewhat of a vision,” he teased, an overconfident air overtaking him.  “But remember, you can’t appreciate all this,” he made a wide circle around his face, “If you don’t remember to breathe.”

 

That didn’t become an issue until he took another step and the beginning of wings sprouted out from behind him.  They were folded in behind his back, arching high above his shoulders.  The tops of them were white, though the rest remained hidden behind whatever continued to cloud the rest of your vision.   

 

He stopped, having reached the edge of the fire that continued to flicker with the same washed out colors, his eyes narrowing as he took a closer look at you.  “Have we met before?”

 

You wondered the same thing, a familiarity resonating along his presence as it washed over you, though it was just as loud as the foreignness that responded inside your mind.  You missed the look Sam and Dean exchanged and the way Cas began to watch your interactions far more closely, unable to tear your gaze away from the only color you had seen in years, afraid that if you did, it might somehow disappear again. 

 

You swallowed, taking an uncertain step toward him, wondering if it was him or the distance that determined how much you saw.  More of him emerged, white feathers melding halfway down into a tawny color, and as you continued forward, you found that the tips of his feathers had those same, flame-licked hues the rest of him did.

 

You never heard the shouts of warning from the others as your steps carried you over the edge of the warding.  Gabriel’s smile faltered, amber brightened, taking on an ethereal quality as you continued forward.  Inch by inch, you watched more of his wings emerged, and by the time you reached the second trap your friends had laid, you could see his span from tip to tip.  

 

The world around you remained flat, however, though none of that mattered now.  All that did was this mystery man in front of you and the sensations he was creating with his presence alone.    

 

The holy oil flickered out and the world around you faded to darkness, save the warm burn of the embers in the bowl at his feet.  His wings retained an otherworldly glow, that left him illuminated with that same summery aura that kissed his vessel’s natural features.

 

“Tell me you feel that.”  He stared at you, the nonchalant persona fading as sobriety overtook all smugness you had seen.  A quiet plea ran beneath his words, tugging at your heart, getting it to beat once more with purpose.  He took your face between his hands, his touch so careful and gentle despite the raw power you could feel beneath it.  “Tell me it’s not just me.”  

 

Tears sprung into your eyes and a small sob released, born more of overwhelming relief and inexplicable joy that sang through you because you  _ did _ .  You  _ felt _ , on a level you were unaware of, other than that terrible emptiness existed.  It was completely beyond your understanding, amazing, and so many other things that if anyone ever asked, the only explanation you could give was you knew.  With every fiber of your being.  Beyond all reasonable doubt.  You  _ knew, _ and you finally felt the fog beginning to lift as life breathed back into you.   

 

You reached for him, drawing his face down to yours so you could rest your forehead against his.  That simple contact gave you everything you needed, everything you’d given up for lost, and for the first time in years, your lips raised in a genuine smile.  

 

The electricity suddenly surged to life, the bulbs burning so brightly they threatened to burst beneath the extra energy pouring through them.  You could already see it the way the light filtered through your eyelids, and when you opened your eyes the world was the breathtaking spectrum of colors it had always been before that awful day.  

 

He brushed away your tears with his thumbs, handling you with more tenderness and care than anyone ever had before.  The truth became startlingly clear, the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place.  It was him.  It had always been him, and now that he was back, it was finally over.  

 

“What is he doing?”  Dean demanded, though the sheer look of happiness on your face prevented him from intervening as you and Gabriel continued to stand there, holding each other.  

 

Cas smiled, watching the connection that flowed between you and his brother as the archangel folded his wings protectively around you.  “He’s helping.”   __

  
  
  
  



End file.
